


And Around It Goes...

by CuriousOh



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Amusement Parks, Ferris Wheels, Fluff, Good Parent John Winchester, Happier than Current 'Verse, Homophobic Language, M/M, Meet-Cute, No one hates Dean Winchester like Dean Winchester, Oneshot, Openly Bisexual Dean Winchester, Roadtrip, Single Parent John Winchester, tragic backstory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-30
Updated: 2017-07-30
Packaged: 2018-12-08 19:14:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,335
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11652957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CuriousOh/pseuds/CuriousOh
Summary: Dean really doesn't like heights, luckily a certain blue-eyed stranger is willing to help distract him.(Fair warning-there is some adult language in here, nothing too racy, but definitely some naughty words that kids should consult their parents before repeating... but if you can watch supernatural you're probably okay.)





	And Around It Goes...

After John’s stint in the army, the marines and his wife’s death in 1983, he started taking the Winchester brothers on summer-long road-trips in their 1967 Chevy Impala. To Dean Summer was the occasional cold but mostly warm root beer, 2 lane asphalt that reached the horizon, hot leather seats, windows cracked to let in the sweet air in while driving through the Great Plains, spotty classic rock radio stations, visiting strange tourist attractions, and fighting with his kid Brother Sam, in the backseat. It’s been 6 years since his father’s death, and even more since their last family vacation, those stopped shortly after Sam went away to Stanford.

Every Summer Dean would get the itch to drive the same Chevy Impala, a gift from dear old dad for his 21st Birthday, and see the same sights again, marvel at how quickly the world changes in some parts, and how much it remains the same. Of course, being an adult Dean has had trouble devoting an entire summer to driving. God knows how his Dad was able to do every summer when he was taking care of two kids on one income. Sometimes they camped at KOAs in small canvas tent. Sometimes they stayed at some theme motels, family friends, distant relatives, army buddies, and if they were desperate and far from any known place, even a hotel every once in a while. Dean had his first kiss at UC-Boulder when they came to check out an outside bazaar, and stayed for the potato sack race. He lost his virginity and had his first heart break with Cassie Robinson in Cape Giradeau, Missouri when his family had to go back home, after months of staying with Rufus Turner, a buddy of one of John’s army buddies for half of the summer.

Dean, as much as he lived those nine months in school, most of those important moments, the kind that formed a person, happened on the road.

Sam would probably disagree.

Dean finally saved up enough between his local Kansas City fireman gig, and his dad’s old garage that he could spend another summer on the road. Best of all, he was able to convince Sammy to fly to Kansas and leave his wife for a few weeks before she had the baby. It was just like old times, only instead of Dad being able to strong arm his way on what they were going to eat or do, they could decide.

Dean never felt better than on the road, or away from home with Sammy by his side.

            They had just arrived in Connecticut for the next day or two and decided to stay in Bristol before driving to Manchester to see the Annual Classic Cruise Night, and yeah, it meant an extra few hours out of the way, so Sammy could see some historic civil war battlefield where a bunch of dead guys made a bunch of important decisions and a guaranteed visit to the liberty bell, but Dean was okay with that.

            Tonight they were going to Lake Compounce Amusement Park where Dean had won his first carnival game at 9 years old, a sharpshooter game for those curious John had beamed when Dean was presented with that stuffed tiger named via Sam’s suggestion Rajah, and Sam’s first roller coaster ride was on “Wildcat”. It had changed a lot in recent years, changing ownership 5-6 times between Sam and Dean’s first visit and the last, but all in all, it was the same beautiful place next to a lake with the smell of popcorn, cotton candy, and sweat in the air.

Although Dean was afraid of heights and planes especially, there was plenty to do and see in the vast park.

However, Dean was never one to back out of a dare, which is why Dean was in his current predicament.

            Dean was currently white-faced holding on tightly to the gondola’s railing too scared to look up from his lap, while his brother Sammy was on the ground laughing. He had tried his old standby of humming Metallica to keep him calm but it seems like the Metal God’s have abandoned him. He was now trying Lamaze breaths that he’s learned from watching too many romantic comedies with his ex-girlfriend Lisa.

If Dean had been able to look up at all he’d be able to remind himself that the ferris wheel only stood 100 feet tall at the very highest and that the people were still perfectly recognizable and although seeing the tops of all the trees and buildings was definitely anxiety-inducing, he’d be able to see the beautiful sunset by the lake, most would consider it worth it.

But currently Dean instead was whispering, counting to 100 over and over trying to remind himself that the ride was going to come back down and not in a crash and burn fashion, but in that the wheel that spins up must spin down sort of way. But the Giant Wheel’s operator’s M.O. meant that each group was being loaded slowly and explained the asinine safety rules, as if safety was really a worry. This was one of the rare times that Dean lamented a lack of seatbelts. So the ride was stopping every 5-7 minutes, which meant that Dean had been on the upper third of the wheel for the last 10, unable to breathe regularly.

So Dean held in his scream every time the stupid thing lurched to a stop, worried that the ride was malfunctioning and that it was the beginning of the end, that the whole thing was either going to slide off, or stop forever, and inevitably the motor would finally start itself back up again just in time for someone to lose their head or limbs trying to climb down from the damn thing. On one side of his carriage he could hear children laughing and some people obviously on a first date with how awkward their conversation was moving, an older man complaining about how slow the thing was, which Dean could definitely relate to, it felt like he was sitting on top of the world with no way down but certain death, forever, and on the other, he actually heard a gravelly voice asking if someone was okay.

Dean carefully raised his head, just above the edge of the carriage, to look if someone needed assistance, because dammit he might be scared out of his mind, but he’s an emergency responder first, and firefighters step in to help, no matter the personal cost.

He looked out towards where he heard the concerned voice coming from and was hit with a serious wave of vertigo, lightheaded and dizziness, at the sight of all of the people below, but he also made out a man with almost electric blue eyes. One hand grabbed his head in an attempt to someone steel himself against the nausea-inducing sights and his other braced himself against the carriage to steady himself. Despite being able to clearly see pink and orange clouds, he remained upright, sitting straight, took a deep breath and looked down towards the carriage on his left again. The man gave Dean a small smile, his eyes crinkled and his brow furrowed in concern meeting Dean’s eyes, “Are you okay? Do you need the ride to stop?”

Dean wanted to laugh, but still couldn’t find the air to do so. “I’m a firefighter.” Dean answered, trying to sound confident, surprising himself with how high-pitched, unsure and shaky his voice sounded. He was going to kill Sam, public humiliation wasn’t supposed to be part of this.

“Even firefighters need help sometimes.” He smiled understandingly, no hint of mockery in his very very blue eyes or turned lips.

“Maybe.” Dean answered, the word escaping his careful façade of comfortableness.

“Do you want to talk about it?” The man turned his head at an angle, the very picture of genuine concern.

Dean groaned, of course he gets seated next to a big old girl who wants to talk about his feelings, if he wouldn’t do it for Sammy he sure as hell wouldn’t do it for this stranger, even if through the haze of fear, was obviously attractive, near his age and kind.

Besides the statistics aren’t with him, chances are if Dean were to pursue him, he’d just be a straight man who’d get him and his friends to beat the “fag” as soon as they got off.

“Or not.” The guy said. “Obviously you need something distracting you.” He finished, wetting his lips.

Little Dean perked up a little at what could be distracting actual Dean from the mortal peril he was in right now. But seeing as he’d have to leap over 8 feet to the next carriage with a possible fall of over 80 feet and he wasn’t George of the Jungle his desired method of distraction was off the table before it ever got on the table.

“Do you like Bees?” the stranger asked as if that were a normal question one asks another when getting to know them. But seeing his Mr. Roger’s type of navy blue long sleeved sweater in July and his light blue button up below that and his dress pants at an amusement park of all places, this might seem like a normal question to the stranger.

Dean answers before thinking, “Uh… no.” thinking of the many bee stings he’s sustained minding his own business while working outside mowing the lawn, pulling weeds, building his workshop. Yeah, he definitely didn’t like them.

The man frowns at his answer. “Really?” sighs in disappointment before continuing “You know the declining bee population will inevitably lead to a food shortage and widespread famine.”

Dean laughs, because of course the scariest moment of his life is with a weird sweater wearing blue-eyed hippy who’s about to start ranting about the rights of bees. “What are you some kind of bee advocate?”

The man looks offended for a moment, swallows the sun giving him a golden halo backlighting up his dark brown hair, and answers, “No. I just want there to be food in the next 10-15 years to eat.”

Dean laughs for second and wonders if he’s heard anything about this bee shortage that would lead to a food shortage. He, if all things go right on this godforsaken ride, should be around in 10-15 years and it’d be a shame to survive this hell only to be starving to death. He definitely hasn’t seen anything about it on 60 minutes, maybe this guy is one of those crazy end-of-the-world preppers. “Where the fuck did you hear that?” Dean finally decides to say, if he’s next to 10 buckets of crazy it’d be better to know sooner than later, especially with what that voice is reminding him of.

The man smiles, “A Documentary on the History Channel.”

Dean thinks back to what he’s seen on the history channel, lots of stuff about the end of the world, disasters, and how aliens are responsible for any major advancement of mankind. Which doesn’t necessarily mean this man is crazy, but it doesn’t mean he’s sane either.

“Do you believe everything you see on TV?” Dean decides to ask, if he’s one of those terrifying Trump-loving, end-of-world-prepping, gun-toting, in the closet homophobes it’ll be very clear from his answer.

“No, and I don’t believe that the pyramids were built by aliens either.” The man laughs.

Dean’s relieved, so he’s probably not one of those fringe conspiracy theorists either.

“So why’d you become a fireman?” the stranger asks.

Dean thinking about it, so he just answers his prepared answer that he’s given thousands of times, “The hose looked really cool.” He laughs and amends at the guys rolled eyes, “My mom died in a house fire. If I could stop one kid from losing his mother, it’ll all be worth it.”

The guy nods his head sadly. “So what’s your name, firefighter?” He smiles meeting Dean’s eyes.

“Dean Winchester. What about you blue eyes?” Dean says looking up at the stranger, gaining a little confidence since the Ferris wheel is finally more on the lower side.

“Castiel Novak.” The guy says not meeting his eyes for the first time.

“Castiel?” Dean asks.

“Dad’s an anthropologist, Mom’s a theologist. It’s the angel of Thursday.”

Dean nods, not knowing what to say.

“Yeah, it’s a conversation killer.” He says looking back up at Dean with a gummy smile. “You local?” Castiel asks Dean.

“Nope. Kansas boy. You?”

“I grew up in Illinois. I’ve actually been travelling the last few years… I guess my homebase is currently Texas?”

“You guess?” Dean laughed.

“Well, it’s where I spend most winters. I got family that let me park there all winter.”

Dean did not expect a vagabond in Castiel blue eyes wrapped up in a sweater in the middle of summer. “Oh really, what do you do?” Dean leans a little more left closer to Castiel, the carriage leans with him and he is instantly reminded of the where they currently are. A wave of dizziness hits and he has hold on with both hands just to stop himself from shaking.

Castiel smiles sympathetically. “My parents were owners of an army contractor, literally making money off of the blood of children. I say I’m a writer, teacher, linguist… but honestly I’m living off of a trust fund that makes me sick to my stomach to think of where it came from and give speeches to kids and colleges on a variety of topics, some workshops, some of those forced motivational assemblies that kids don’t want to go to… and I honestly have no idea what I’m doing with my life… I have multiple degrees in many different subjects and well I’m lost.”

By the end of the speech Castiel is hanging his head, and holding his stomach and Dean has forgotten all about the ferris wheel of death, just in the sight of such honesty.

“That was oversharing, wasn’t it?” Castiel laughed, “Meg’s always saying that I need to rein things in…”

“Meg’s your gir-”

“Best friend. Sort of. I don’t really understand why we’re friends. She just had my back one day and never left…” Castiel said looking a bit distracted.

Now that Dean had a chance to look at Castiel without the intense eye contact of those baby blues, he noticed that he was a little scruffy, his clothes were a little rumpled, most especially the light blue dress shirt underneath his sweater, his shoes were scuffed and dress pants were a little frayed. Cas was a strange person that Dean didn’t know what to think of, very attractive, apparently rich, but the sort of person that notices based on body language a freak out.

Luckily, currently their carriages on the Ferris wheel were only about 5 feet on the ground and at a point where the carriages were pretty much level with each other. Dean was tempted to just roll out of the Ferris wheel but he knew that Sam would count that as a cop out, with their bet, but he’s also intrigued by Castiel, he might be worth risking it on a Ferris wheel to get to know a little better.

“Here it comes.” Dean murmurs mostly to himself as the ferris wheel rotates a little causing them to go around 15 feet into the air, and Castiel is now below Dean rather than above. He breathes in through his nose and out through his mouth, mimicking one of Sammy’s ridiculous yogi bear breathes. He feels a little calmer but that probably has more to do with the fact that he knows he’d mostly likely survive a fall from that height with minor injuries unless all the stars aligned.

Castiel looked up at Dean, Dean looked down at Castiel, “Dean, we’ll be okay.” Castiel said.

“Maybe, accidents do happen.”

“They do.” Castiel said simply.

The fact that Castiel hasn’t teased Dean or laughed at him for his fear, makes Dean feel odd. Almost like his chest is opening up, like a weight has been lifted, but as soon as he realizes that, he realizes that he’s admitted his fear, how scared he is, out loud, in public.

The ferris wheel lurches higher, they are now 25 feet off of the ground, still a height that will rarely kill a man, but one that almost undoubtedly will gravely injure one, a broken bone can be expected now.

“What kind of music do you listen to?” Castiel asks simply.

“Mostly the classics Led Zeppelin, Aerosmith, Metallica, etc.” Dean replies without thinking, without consciously moving his lips. “What do you listen to, Cas?”

“I’ve heard of those bands but I mostly listen to music that was made before the 1970s, The Temptations, Nat King Cole, Fred Astaire, Sister Rosetta Tharpe, Etta James, The Beatles.”

Dean side-eyed Castiel, “Really?” He laughed, “Big band music, jazz, pre-1970s… Do you order off the senior menu, too?”

 Castiel rolls his eyes. “Music used to be a big production in those days, a string quartet was seen as minimal to back a vocalist. But, they didn’t overwhelm you with a myriad of sounds all at once, instead they accompanied the vocalist. Those instrumental breaks were actually interesting, almost as good as the parts with the singer, there was feeling…”

Dean raised one of his hands in surrender, unable to trust his balance otherwise, nearly 30 feet off the ground. “Okay, I get it, you liked it old school, kids these days with their rock and metal.. back in my day musicians actually meant they knew how to play an instrument.” Dean said laughing.

“I understand that type of music is no longer popular, but that doesn’t lessen the value of what those musicians did, the type of music you like, wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for those musicians of a by-gone era, I only regret being born too late to have seen most of them in concert.” Castiel said bowing his head.

“Hey, I get it. Different strokes for different folks. Nothing is ever made in a vacuum. So how does a kid, I’m assuming in your 30s, like me, end up into big band music?” Dean asks, trying to keep the conversation going, if only for the distraction.

Castiel licks his already chapped lips before answering, he looks up, those blue eyes almost glowing in the growing darkness now that the sun is setting. “Well… I had my mother’s nanny.”

“What?” Dean replies, out of all the possible replies that was certainly the least expected.

“My nanny, who raised me, had been my mother’s nanny before me. She loved big band music, Nat King Cole, Fred Astaire… big band music was the soundtrack of my childhood.” He smiled with a closed mouth smile

“It reminds me of back then, when I was with her, she died over 15 years ago. But when I listen to Etta James, it’s like she’s right there with me, crooning along.” Castiel had closed his eyes, taking in a deep breath with a smile, before opening them back up.

Dean’s throat was dry, and swollen. “I get that.” He croaked. He can’t characterize his love of rock music of the 60s-80s as anything different.

“I owe that woman my life, and my goodness.” Castiel finished, his eyes looking shiny, he blinked multiple times, his long eyelashes fluttering, and cleared his throat.

It seemed like a moment where the world should have still, silent, but below them the crowds were still loud, a little girl screaming in glee, the carnival games still played loud music, the light breeze still blew and you could hear crickets starting their songs for the night.

“You know?” He continued, his eyes searching with that intense stare.

Dean kept that intense eye contact looking upwards at Castiel, and swallowed. “I know, Cas.” All of his grief over the years, all the lost friends, to cancer, fire, sickness and accidents was contained in those words.

The ferris wheel lurched forward again, they were now 50 feet or so above the ground. Dean’s breathe was stolen from him, he lost eye contact with Cas, falling back against the gondola, trying to find his breathe as he held on for life.

Dean had to focus just to breathe, to stay there although his body wanted to run. Classic fight or flight response… he tried to remember his firefighter training, how to deal with a panic attack. But, it was a lot less terrifying to run into a burning fire than ride this damn ferris wheel, where he had no control over his environment, he couldn’t change things... he was just stuck.

“Dean!” he heard the now familiar voice of Castiel, call cutting through his thoughts, his plans he was making depending on how the the carriage he was in, or the entire wheel itself were to fall, perhaps it’d only hang by one of those large cables above him, swinging more violently than now, good god, he was going to hurl.

“Dean!” Dean chanced looking out of his gondola and down at the one that Castiel was seated in, the white of his eyes, glowing in the quickly darkening night. Castiel’s wide grin lit up like a light in response. “Dean, look at me. And tell me about your family.” Castiel demanded, and dammit if Dean wasn’t ready to be ordered to do other things to/for Mr. Blue eyes.

Dean took a breath, and looked at Castiel’s chest rather than making eye contact, he’s learned how much harder this is when people give you that look. “I was born in Lawrence, Kansas, eldest son of John and Mary Winchester, my brother Sammy was born six months before my mother, Mary died in a house fire that started in Sammy’s nursery. My father went back inside after Sammy and my mother, he came running out with Sammy handed him to me, and went back to get my mom. It was too late for her. He came back out coughing up a storm, trying to reassure me, although mom never made it out.”

Dean chanced a look into those blue eyes, and they were furrowed in sadness and sympathy and it made it worse. That’s why he didn’t share those details if he could help it. It was like watching his sadness happen all over again. He saw that same sad helplessness that he always felt in his soul, the inability to change things, but wanting to. His eyes felt dry for tears he refused to shed. When he continued, his voice shuddered, “The firefighters were quick. Didn’t lose much of the house. Lived with my Uncle Bobby and Aunt Karen (not really my Aunt and Uncle, but family don’t end with blood) for a very short time while they fixed our house. Of course, we didn’t have much of Sam’s things. The adults were always grumbling about how he needed something. Bobby pulled up some old things from the basement, they had tried for children but, after Karen’s cancer, she was infertile… so they had some stuff. My Dad-”

Dean hesitated, with another lurch of the ferris wheel and then it stopped. It was the stopping that made it worse, they were almost 80 feet in the air, probably, luckily with the quickly falling night it was hard to see how high they were, which made it easier not be afraid.

“My dad, he was a rock. After the funeral, first one I’d ever been to, didn’t quite understand what was going on.. He started right back up at Bobby’s garage, made my lunches for preschool and every summer took us around the states, in our Chevy Impala, he and mom got it before they were married actually… lot of good memories in that car. Sammy grew up smart, and tall, like freakishly tall, his feet are huge, he’s always grumbling about how hard it is to find shoes… he’s actually a goody-two-shoes, responsible family man… or close enough anyways his wife, Jess, way out of his league by the way, is pregnant with their first kid and he’s stressing out about it. Ever since he found out he’s just been calling me practically every night claiming he just wants to shoot the breeze, talk about anything, but really he’s freaking out. He’ll make a great, very stressed out, probably give his kid some kind of anxiety order, Dad. But yeah, that kid won’t ever understand how much he lucked out with his parent… obviously he’ll be blessed with good looks between being related to me, and Jess. But Sammy, man he’s a freak of nature, tall and he works out like all the time and eats rabbit food... which I don’t see how that’s enough to sustain a man..”

Castiel just smiled listening to Dean go on and on about his family, and surprisingly the wheel was making its final descent before the two of them noticed.

Dean got off first, all the adrenaline making his legs feel all rubbery, and wait for Castiel’s gondola to unload… before shyly walking up scratching the back of his neck, to thank him for distracting him.

Castiel ruffled his hair and said, “It was no problem. I enjoyed getting to know you, Dean.”

Dean blushed… stuck his hands in his pockets, not really knowing what to say to that.

Castiel leaned closer and whispered, “You’re very beautiful when you’re on solid land and blushing.”

Dean mumbled a “Shut up.” Before quickly giving Castiel and quick peck on the cheek, and trying to walk off.

Castiel grabbed his arm, “You can’t just kiss a man and walk off y’know? At least give me your number.”

Sam watched the two from afar, rolling his eyes. Watching them trade phones and another kiss, that nearly veered inappropriate for a public venue. Classic Dean, even when he’s scared shitless he ends up chasing tail...

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a simple one-shot, plotless fluff. It became a long oneshot because apparently I love angst and backstory. There aren't any plans to expand this, at least until my Series Bicentennial Cas is finished.
> 
> Also, this might seem exaggerated, but there is a personal basis for me, and believe me this is actually not as intense as the real thing was. I've had an extreme fear of heights since I broke my collarbone at 4 after being pushed off a slide, I literally will feel vertigo on the second floor of a building if I don't focus. Also when I was 4 after a bad game of hide and go seek where I hid in the dryer and someone started it and ran off. Literally had to kick my way out. So a bit of claustrophobia too. So the literal worse thing in the world for me is to feel trapped while up high. 
> 
> My reaction to major turbulence on a plane would probably be very similar to Dean's.
> 
> All of this culminated in my first trip to the amusement park with my older sister and brother's friends...at 11 (they were 3-8 years older than me) and they made me get on the Ferris wheel. I was scared out of my mind. I actually had a panic attack in line, and tried to run hop the fence dividing the line in order to get out of there asap. 
> 
> A nice foreign exchange student from Italy happened to be operating the ride that day. He convinced me to get onto it with my friends and promised that he would not stop it when we were on the top. (This one was actually 150 ft high, and the gondolas swung in the wind.) He inevitably had to because he still needed to load people and actually my sister and her friends ended up singing Dashboard Confessionals at the top of their lungs with me to calm me down while we were stuck 150 feet up in the air for 10 minutes). 
> 
> The operator was really nice, waved at us when we passed him everytime, and told us to give him a signal if we needed to get off. While it is one of my memories where I most scared, it's actually sort of cherished memory of a great time... I still never want to ride a ferris wheel, but if I can survive once, I can probably survive it again.


End file.
